


Fire and Rain

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-01
Updated: 2003-11-01
Packaged: 2020-07-07 19:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19856761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: Eghty years after Kirk's death...





	Fire and Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).
> 
> Author's Notes:  
> The story was previously published in the KiScon zine of 2001. It also won a Bronze Philon award for 2001 (for vignette). Also: this story is Not Rated -- let the reader beware.

Private Log: Ambassador Spock cha' Sarek keran James Kirk recording; stardate 95786.3

I am restless tonight, disturbed, full of grief. I am much taken with thoughts of the past, in a way I have not permitted myself to be for many years. Perhaps it is time I spoke of these things, if only in my own private records. Perhaps this will bring me a measure of peace, or at least hasten the coming of tomorrow and the passing of this grimmest of anniversaries.

Eighty years ago tonight, they came to tell me that Jim was dead.

_I had not known_.

I did not feel our bond break. I felt... _something_ , a disturbance I could not precisely define. Something awakened me in the small hours of the night, as I lay sleeping in the apartment Jim and I were sharing at the time. I had only that very evening returned from a scientific conference which had been scheduled far in advance, preventing me from attending the launch of the _Enterprise-B_ with Jim and my former crew-mates.

It was an important conference, a gathering of some of the Federation's top scientists. We had been trying to solve the serious ecological problems that still plagued Utopia Planitia Colony despite years of terraforming. The paper I'd presented was on a subject essential to the work. I could hardly have stepped aside merely to indulge personal nostalgia. Jim knew that. It was he who had urged me to attend despite the newly-scheduled launch.

Still, I have never entirely forgiven myself for not being there at his side when he died.

Eighty years ago tonight I jolted awake with a gasp, fighting for air, feeling as though I were smothering -- and then there was nothing, only blankness, numbness, a lack of feeling. It took me nearly an hour to bring myself under control again, to regulate my suddenly uneven heartbeat, dispel the dizziness and calm my trembling body. I had never, in all my life, felt anything like it. I was at a loss to explain the experience. I was quite unable to get back to sleep afterwards, or to enter a meditative trance. Instead I paced our apartment, restless and disturbed, unsure of what was wrong. It was not until the StarFleet attache knocked upon my door some three hours later that I discovered what had caused those strange sensations -- Jim's death, incurred saving the Enterprise-B from a poorly understood, highly energetic spatial anomaly.

He died as he had always wanted to die, in the service of his ideals, saving many lives by sacrificing his own. I tried to find some comfort in that, and hoped that he had lived long enough to know of his success. But it did not help me.

I went into a kind of shock, I suppose, for a time. I locked up the apartment, took an extended leave of absence from my teaching post and returned to Vulcan, spending a period of several months as a guest of the Kolinahru at Gol. Not as a postulant this time, merely as a man sorely wounded, trying to recover from my loss and continue with my life -- as I knew, even in my loneliness and grief, that Jim would have wanted me to do.

I have never understood why I did not feel our bond break, why I continued to wake up shivering in the dead of night, surrounded by the faint, nearly imperceptible sense of Jim's presence. That sense was more faint than anything I experienced while he still lived, even the time he was lost in the Tholian space or in the mirror universe -- but it was quite unmistakable. Even High Master T'Lar was not able to explain it, though she touched my thoughts and verified that it was real.

No such occurrence has ever been recorded in the archives at Gol, despite the many thousands of years such archives have been kept. Gol was a stronghold of the mind-lords and their adepts long before the discipline of Kolinahr was ever devised. But not even they, whose reputed powers seem like witchcraft to we modern descendants of Surak, ever wrote of such an awareness continuing in one whose bondmate was already dead.

After several years I concluded that it was merely another manifestation of my mixed heritage. I had left StarFleet by then, since without Jim there was nothing there for me. Instead I returned to the Homeworld and took up my father's old post in the Vulcan Diplomatic Service, finding that the tactics and stratagems of diplomacy suited me well in this latter part of my life. I never stopped missing Jim, never ceased to wish, with all my heart, that I had been with him on that final voyage. But I continued to serve, feeling it my duty to do so.

Now this. On the newsfeeds today I saw that the peculiar energy ribbon which killed my t'hy'la has returned. Not in the same place it was seen eighty years ago -- but not very far from there. An entire solar system is endangered this time, and StarFleet has dispatched the _Enterprise-D_ to save as many as can be saved, if they cannot find a way to divert the anomaly.

I have met Picard. He is an able man, though not, I think, Jim's equal. I wish him success in his endeavours. He was kind to me once, at a time when I was in need of such kindness.

Once I would have been eager to join this rescue effort. Once, with Jim's heart so strong in mine, I would not have hesitated to lay my own life down in the service of those nameless others. But I am an old man now. Not old as my people reckon age, no -- but I _feel_ old. It has been one hundred and thirty Standard years since the healers first placed me in my father's hands, and whether it is because of my human blood, or the effects of Genesis, I feel every instant of those years. I barely escaped from ch'Rihan with my life, the last time. I have since handed my cause to those young enough to carry it on. I am too slow to dodge the Tal Shi'aar any longer.

I grow weak, short of breath upon the slightest exertion. At times my heart falters, the result of a condition inherited from my father. My very bones ache, though the gravity here at the Embassy on Earth is considerably less than that of the Homeworld. I feel the cold with a sharpness I never knew before; I am forced to keep my quarters at a temperature none of the humans on my staff can tolerate for more than a hand of minutes, in order to get any sleep at all. They accept my foibles, for I am a much-respected man. In turn I am gratified to still be of service in whatever manner I can.

But I am _tired_. My parents have both gone before me. My former crew-mates, for the most part, are also dead. Even Leonard, dear nemesis and always-loyal friend, he who was for a time the keeper of my katra -- even he passed some five years ago, by then an old, old man. I sat with him on the night he died, assured him that I would look after myself, that he need not worry. He did not believe me, of course. I miss him very sharply tonight, for it was our custom to meet on this anniversary and share our memories of Jim, whenever our separate travels permitted it. Like me, he was never really able to put Jim's loss behind him, never even wanted to try.

My beloved bondmate has been gone for eighty years, a span that feels endless to me. By strict Vulcan logic, I should deny these feelings, should not even experience them. But I am not only Vulcan. I have not cared to pretend otherwise for many years now.

I never took another mate. I preferred instead, whenever my Time came upon me, to use the services of the acolytes at Gol and keep my mind my own. I could not imagine sharing with another what I once shared with Jim, and I did not wish to dilute my memories, for they are all of him that I have left.

To this day I still sometimes awaken with pounding heart and trembling hands, and the faint, ghostly sense of Jim's presence within me once again. But there has never been any answer to my calls along the bond. He has never returned, and I no longer expect that he will. I was fortunate to have as much time with him as I did, I know, for it could easily have been otherwise. It took years for us to admit what many of our shipmates had already known, and we were young and foolish even after we came together. Either or both of us could have been killed at any time.

These are the things I tell myself, when I tremble with loss in the small hours of the night. Sometimes they even help me, a little. But I have been unusually pensive tonight, even for me. My sense of Jim's presence has been much stronger during these last few hours, stronger than it has been for many years. Almost I might believe that he is alive again -- but I know this is not possible. Still I treasure this feeling, and I do not wish to lose myself in sleep and miss a single moment of it. It has been so many years since I could sense his mind in mine...

Jim, my Jim -- _s'thie t'hy'la, na-khere s'tha_ \-- I still miss you. Your loss is as sharp within me as it was on that very first day. I have never forgotten, never for one moment stopped wishing I could see you again, feel the touch of your thoughts in mine, so sweet, so bright. I have been alone for so long, my love, so many years without you. Why--

Ah! What is this? Our bond -- it flames! It burns!

Ahh... the pain, the pain is so strong... I do not understand, I do not know what is happening. I feel... ribs, broken. Spine, damaged. My legs, my arm, my head... I taste blood in my mouth -- but this is not the taste of Vulcan blood. Gods of my Ancestors, how can this be?

I force my eyes to open, look down at myself -- and I see no injuries. I am as whole as I was this morning. But I can _feel_ these things, so clear, so sharp. What is happening to me?

Computer: bring all lights to full brightness.

I must rise, go to my comm-set -- but I find I cannot. I have not the strength. I can only lie back upon my bed and gasp for air. Dark spots are coming and going before my eyes. I feel as if I am dying, but I know, with the bodily awareness all Vulcans have, that my body is not actually damaged. Truly, I do not understand this.

I feel Jim again, so strong inside me, so bright. By the Nine Gods of Pelle'ennath, it is as if he were standing here before me. How can this be?

And the bond... the bond is strong again, hot and electric and right here with me. Even as my heart falters, I can feel it growing stronger still. Jim? Am I dreaming, or is this real?

Ahh -- _Jim_.

T'hy'la, it _is_ you! I have missed you so much, for so long... It is you, you are real, you are here within me again.

My heart-- oh! Please, not now...

No. C'thia above all. _This_ pain is mine. Ai-hao, it hurts!

No time... But I will not fight this. Kaiidth. Whoever finds this tape, give it to Captain Saavik of the Federation starship _USS T'El._ This is my last wish.

Computer: label this tape "Saavik."

Saavikam, do not grieve for me. I am finally at peace. You deeply honoured me when you accepted me in a father's place, deliberately choosing to trust me. I have always been proud of you. Live long and prosper, daughter-of-my-heart.

Tell Peter that both Jim and I were always proud of him, as well. I regret I could not tell him this in person one more time, but it is too late for that.

Jim -- I finally understand now. You did not die, all those years ago. You left this time and space, but you did not die. Not until tonight did you finally return, only to give up your life all over again. And this time it is real, and our bond has brought you home to me. Oh Jim, my t'hy'la, my Bright One... It is so good to touch your thoughts again, beloved.

I am complete now. I am content. I can res--

Uhhh...

<The sound of a body hitting the floor is heard. The tape runs on until it ends, but there are no further sounds, no more words, nothing but the noise of the tape itself.>

\-----///-----

StarFleet Primary Newsfeed, San Francisco, NorthAm Province, Earth, SolSystem.

Coded for General Release, appropriate for all ages, all viewers. StarDate 95787.4

Good morning, gentle beings. I am Gilberto Silva of FNN's FleetCom bureau. I have the sad duty of informing you that Ambassador Spock of Vulcan passed away last evening, in his residence at the Vulcan Embassy in San Francisco. His physician, Healer Sethan of the Vulcan Embassy staff, stated that the death was from natural causes.

Ambassador Spock was best known for his many years of service in StarFleet, where he rose to the rank of captain before resigning his commission after the death of his bondmate, Admiral James T. Kirk. In addition to his period of active field service, then-Captain Spock taught Command-track courses, including senior class training cruises, for ten years at StarFleet Academy's San Francisco campus. From lieutenant-j.g., sciences division, to captain of the ship, he served aboard the Enterprise and her sister the Enterprise-A for nearly 32 years. He served with distinction and was decorated for valour on several occasions.

He also taught much-sought-after seminars in advanced stellar and temporal physics at the Vulcan Science Academy. He won both the Vulcan Scientific Legion of Honour, for excellence in scientific endeavours, and the Zee-Magnees Prize, for his studies in Stellar Physics.

After leaving the Fleet he entered the Vulcan Diplomatic Service, eventually coming to serve as the Vulcan Ambassador for nearly seventy years. He held what was once his father's seat on the Federation Council, where he was a tireless campaigner for sentient rights. His colleagues on Embassy Row say that he will be greatly missed. He was preceded in death by his parents, Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda Grayson of Vulcan, and by his bondmate, Admiral Kirk. He is survived by his former ward, Captain Saavik, also of StarFleet, and by his adopted nephew Peter Kirk, a professor emeritus of agricultural science at the United Deneva University.

There will be a small private service on the Embassy grounds; in lieu of flowers, mourners are asked to make a donation to Amnesty Interstellar.

For FNN, this is Gilberto Silva, signing off.

\-----///-----

Oh, I've seen fire, and I've seen rain.

I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.

I've seen lonely nights when I could not find a friend.

But I always thought that I'd see you again...

\-----James Taylor, "Fire and Rain"


End file.
